


Of cotton and wood floors.

by anonymousauthorSA



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Pee, Victorian?, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 08:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18220847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousauthorSA/pseuds/anonymousauthorSA
Summary: "He is dripping. First only one or two drops, then suddenly half a dozen more. The droplets glisten at the tip of his half hard prick, then slowly run down the little valley where his thighs meet."





	Of cotton and wood floors.

**Author's Note:**

> Pee. If this isn't your thing, please turn back now.
> 
> Some sex this time.

Watson is sitting on his ankles, quivering thighs pressed tightly together. He is hunched over slightly, shivering despite the warm summer evening. His breath comes in short, shallow pants. 

It is urgent now.

I am certain that if his hands were not securely tied behind his back he would be holding himself like a small boy.

“O, gods, please, Holmes!”

It is a desperate plea, he sounds almost tearful.

“What is it, old man?”

“Please, I need to piss!”

It is tempting, he has certainly exceeded expectations already tonight.

“Not yet, old man, just a little longer now. I know you can hold it.”

He whimpers softly, and then he is quiet again.

A minute passes, and then a sudden gasp.

He is dripping. First, only one or two drops, then suddenly half a dozen more. The droplets glisten at the tip of his half hard prick, then slowly run down the little valley where his thighs meet.

“O, no! O, no, no, no please!”

“Hold it, Watson! What would Mrs. Hudson say if you go all over her floors?”

“Please, I can't hold it! Please, Holmes…”

“Nearly there, old fellow, just a few minutes now…”

He gasps, and there is a sudden volley of droplets, so many that I lose count. They follow the same path down the valley of his thighs to drip down to the floor, staining the wood dark.

“Holmes! I cannot make it stop! Please, I am leaking.”

Perhaps it has been long enough for tonight.

I take up the folded cloth, an old bedsheet. His teary eyes are locked on it as I move towards him. He is moments away from wetting, the dripping is heavy and constant.

I drop to my knees beside him and carefully push his thighs apart to allow for better access. As I do so I bring the fabric into place over his groin, leaving just enough room for me to watch. Immediately he spurts. It is not enough to soak deep into the cotton, but it leaves a yellow patch of dampness.

For a moment he struggles, then there is a weak stream, and then an urgent, forceful hiss as he begins to urinate in earnest.

The worn cloth serves its purpose well. Urine pools for a moment between skin and cotton and then it is absorbed. I can feel the cloth becoming heavy in my hand, and then the hot wetness as it becomes saturated.

He is still going, but the urgency is gone now and it is only a steady trickle.

He is breathing heavily, but it is from arousal rather than urgency. As the flow of urine dwindles I can see his cock becoming engorged, pressing against the soaked cloth.

I remove the cloth, dropping it into the washbasin with a wet splatter. He leaks a little more onto the hardwood, but it is over now…

He is fully erect now, his cock straining against his belly.

I wrap my hand around it, marveling at the strength of him. The head of him is now entirely exposed and I draw my thumb over his flared slit. He gasps again and forcefully bucks into my hand, already overwhelmed from our earlier activities…

“Well done, Watson, o, well done…”

I lower my head and swallow him down until my nose is buried in the dark hair of his groin…

O, well done indeed, my friend...


End file.
